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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26516668">Three (aka... Making Plans for Nigel)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greenlikethesky/pseuds/Greenlikethesky'>Greenlikethesky</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Formula 1 RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Card Games, Drinking Games, M/M, Some Humor, Threesome - M/M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:48:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,683</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26516668</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greenlikethesky/pseuds/Greenlikethesky</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After the 1991 Japanese Grand Prix, Nelson Piquet hosts a farewell party for three drivers in his hotel room. Only without telling any of them who else will be there.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alain Prost/Ayrton Senna, Alain Prost/Ayrton Senna/Nigel Mansell, Alain Prost/Nigel Mansell, Nigel Mansell/Ayrton Senna</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Three (aka... Making Plans for Nigel)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally posted to Livejournal in 2011.</p><p>This is a stand-alone piece, but there are references to another Prost/Senna central fic of mine, Entre Nous (between us), which is also posted here. You definitely do not need to read that to be able to read this, but, you know, if you wanted to...</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>We're only making plans for Nigel</em>
</p><p>
  <em>We only want what's best for him</em>
</p><p>
  <em>We're only making plans for Nigel</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Nigel just needs this helping hand...</em>
</p><p>                                                              - XTC</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Suzuka 20/10/91</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Ayrton shuffled like a pro, flicking the cards between his fingers effortlessly. Alain tried not to be too impressed, but he couldn’t help wondering where the Brazilian had found the time to be brilliant at that as well as everything bloody else.</p><p>Nelson was fidgeting next to him, impatient to start. Alain supposed he should be more impressed with the other Brazilian three-time world champion for getting the four of them to be in the same room as each other, never mind play cards together. But playing people had always been Nelson’s speciality, so what was to be impressed about?</p><p>*</p><p>Alain had arrived at Nelson’s hotel room door half an hour ago, expecting to quietly drink his Ferrari sorrows away with the Brazilian, also facing contract troubles with Benetton. Instead he arrived to find Nigel waiting outside the door.</p><p>“Hi. Nelson didn’t say anyone else would be here.”</p><p>Nigel had merely grunted in reply. Alain supposed he was having a fairly bad day, losing the title only a few hours ago and all, so tried to ignore the Englishman’s abruptness. </p><p>“Sorry. About the race.” Alain tried to strike up conversation again. Again, Nigel didn’t acknowledge him.</p><p>“Look, don’t take this the wrong way, but you are the last person I would expect to have a drinking session with Nelson. You two are not exactly best friends, are you?”</p><p>Nigel looked up at this. “I can honestly say I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go.” He shrugged, and then his eyes wandered past Alain, down the corridor. “And I reckon you just jinxed it for yourself.”</p><p>He turned around, following Nigel’s gaze. </p><p>“What is Nelson playing at?” Alain said, shaking his head.</p><p>Ayrton was standing at the end of the corridor.</p><p>*</p><p>It really was a miracle they were still all there, Alain thought. If Nelson hadn’t opened his door at that exact moment, he was sure Ayrton would have turned around and left. Alain would have been tempted to do the same; he had no interest spending an evening caught in the crossfire between Mansell and Piquet.</p><p>Nelson had worked his magic, though, and somehow before anyone could protest they had been shepherded inside and plied with mini-bar alcohol and were now sitting in a circle on the floor while Ayrton shuffled cards.</p><p>Alain couldn’t help staring at the three other drivers. They looked different in casual clothing, less real somehow. Normality was fire-proof overalls plastered in sponsor patches. Jeans and polo shirts were more like playing dress-up.</p><p>Nigel didn’t meet his gaze, choosing to stare instead into his drink. Ayrton, too, avoided eye contact, but that was nothing new. Nelson, however, looked straight back at him, smiling.<br/>
 <br/>
“So what are we here for?” Alain said. He felt obliged to say something under the Brazilian’s gaze.</p><p>“What, the pleasure of my company isn’t enough?” Nelson smiled.</p><p>“You told me to come here for a quiet drink, to commiserate. I guess you told us all something like that. Why didn’t you tell us who else would be here?”</p><p>Ayrton looked up from shuffling. Nigel was still more interested in the bottom of his glass.</p><p>“Yeah.” Nelson grinned lazily. “Like any of you would have come if I said who else I was inviting.”</p><p>“I suppose.” Alain’s eyes flicked over to where Ayrton was sitting, before he could stop himself. “You succeeded in getting us all in the same room. So... what are we here for?”</p><p>Nelson looked as if he was ready to reply with another glib retort, but stopped himself. “I don’t know. I just thought today was important.”</p><p>“Why today?” Ayrton said, looking interested in spite of himself.</p><p>“I don’t know, today there are three triple world champions on the grid?” Nelson said quickly, pointing to himself, Ayrton and Alain in turn.</p><p>Ayrton just rolled his eyes and smiled. Alain was the only one to notice Nigel’s scowl.</p><p>“So you guys haven’t figured out what today is, then? What today was, I guess. Our last race against each other.”<br/>
 <br/>
“Whose?” Ayrton said.</p><p>“All of us. Alain got sacked from Ferrari.”</p><p>Ayrton glanced at Alain, but quickly looked back at Nelson. “That doesn’t make it our last race.”</p><p>“They sacked you?” Nigel said, speaking finally. “After you got a podium for them at Monza?”</p><p>“It’s not a big deal.” Alain said, in what he hoped was a casual voice. He was acutely aware that Ayrton was looking at him. “They needed a scapegoat for how bad the car was, and they couldn’t sack Jean. He’s only been there one season.”<br/>
 <br/>
“What, you can’t get another drive?” Ayrton said, his voice cool.</p><p>“Not for next season, no.” Alain looked levelly back at him.</p><p>“So in 1993?”</p><p>“I suppose.”</p><p>“We can all race then, then.” Ayrton began shuffling with renewed interest.</p><p>Nelson grinned. “I’m retiring in Adelaide.”</p><p>Everyone looked at him.</p><p>“You get sacked too?” Nigel said, only half-contemptuously.</p><p>“You wish. My contract finishes, and if he-” he gestured at Alain “can’t get a seat for next year, where am I gonna go?”<br/>
 <br/>
There was silence for a moment. Ayrton made to start shuffling again.</p><p>“Okay, come on, they’re done. The cards are probably back where they started by now.” Nelson held out his hand for the deck. Ayrton gave him a long look, and passed the cards over.</p><p>“What are we playing?” Ayrton asked.</p><p>“What do you say to poker?” Nelson grinned at them.</p><p>“Don’t know how.” Nigel said bluntly.</p><p>“No surprise there.” Nelson looked at Alain. “Can you play?”</p><p>Alain smiled ruefully and shook his head.</p><p>*<br/>
 <br/>
“SNAP!”</p><p>Ayrton slapped his hand down on the pile of cards.</p><p>“They didn’t match!”  Alain exclaimed, throwing his arms wide.</p><p>“You’re ridiculous.” Ayrton swept the cards together and began straightening them into his deck.</p><p>“That was a queen and a king!”</p><p>“They’re both red!”</p><p>“Uh oh, here they go.” Grinned Nelson, stretched out on the sofa. He prodded Nigel, sat on the floor, with his foot. The Englishman moved away.</p><p>“Well, wouldn’t be a proper Japanese Grand Prix without them trying to kill each other, would it?” Nigel said bluntly, and finished his drink. He slammed the empty glass back down.</p><p>Nelson raised his eyebrows slightly.  Nigel got to his feet, unsteadily.</p><p>“Thanks for a lovely evening, but you know, must be off.” He said, unsmiling, and made for the door. </p><p>Ayrton caught Alain’s eye for a moment, concerned, then seemed to remember they were supposed to hate each other. He looked away.</p><p>Alain sighed. He stood up, and was surprised to find he was swaying almost as much as Nigel. He was drunker than he’d intended to get. He followed Nigel out into the corridor.</p><p>“Wait.” Alain said, hurrying to catch up to the Williams driver. “Nigel, don’t leave.”</p><p>Nigel stopped walking, but didn’t turn around. “Why bloody not?”</p><p>“Well, for one thing, you can’t leave me alone with those two. You don’t hate me that much.”</p><p>Nigel’s shoulders sagged, and he laughed in spite of himself. He turned back to Alain. “No, I spose not.”</p><p>Alain smiled, reaching an arm around Nigel’s shoulders. “Come on, come back. We just have to keep drinking away our sorrows. Nelson’s paying.”</p><p>Nigel’s face darkened.</p><p>“That’s just it, isn’t it? I’m only here for Nelson to laugh at. You heard him; three triple world champions, and me the triple runner up.”</p><p>“Oh, for God’s sake, fuck Nelson. I don’t pay attention to him.”</p><p>“Yeah. There’s only one Brazilian you pay any attention to these days, isn’t there?” Nigel folded his arms. </p><p>Alain blushed. He never had got used to how Nigel could veer from one emotion to another so quickly; miserable to teasing in a heartbeat. “That’s history.” He said.</p><p>“I know. But that doesn’t make it untrue.”</p><p>Alain gave Nigel an appraising look. “You’re right. Jealous?”</p><p>It was Nigel’s turn to blush, but he replied with a steady voice. “I had my turn.”</p><p>“With which one of us?” </p><p>For the second time that evening, Alain turned to see Ayrton standing behind him in the corridor. He was leaning against Nelson’s hotel room door, arms folded. He was smiling.</p><p>*</p><p>Nelson was snoring. Loudly.</p><p>He had been since they’d gone back inside. He snored, his head back, his mouth open, sprawled out and taking up the entire sofa.</p><p>So, there really hadn’t been anywhere else for the three of them to sit. Apart from in the bedroom. </p><p>Quite how they had all ended up sitting on the bed, however, was beyond Alain’s recollection.</p><p>Nigel had made a pile of mini-bar bottles in the centre, on top of the floral patterned sheets. They clinked softly together whenever anyone shifted their weight. Alain sat back against the headboard, legs stretched out before him, and looked at the other two drivers. Not shyly, secretively, as he had at the beginning of the evening; quite openly now.</p><p>Nigel was reading the bottles, rummaging through until he found one he liked and then scrutinising it – and not in the morose way he had studied his drink earlier, but interested, playful. Alain thought he was plotting something.</p><p>He turned to Ayrton, who was shuffling the cards again. His eyes flicked up, meeting Alain’s.</p><p>The Brazilian, too, had softened over the course of the evening. His gaze was no longer hard, closed off. Like Nigel, he was also considering, but the object of his interest was something different.</p><p>Any other day Alain would have grown warm under a look like that from his rival. But tonight, drinking had made him mellow. It had all of them, Alain guessed. He smiled at Ayrton.</p><p>Ayrton continued to stare for a moment, then slowly and purposefully smiled back.</p><p>“It’s going to be strange, next year, just me and him.” He gestured at Nigel with half of the deck of cards.</p><p>“It’s about time.” Alain shrugged. “We’re relics. Jesus, Nelson started racing in the 70s.”</p><p>“So did Riccardo.” Said Nigel, without looking up from the latest bottle.</p><p>“He’s a relic too.” Alain said. “And you two aren’t far off it, you know.”</p><p>“Fuck that.” Ayrton said softly. “Let’s play.” He held the deck out to Alain.</p><p>“I thought we had established we only know how to play snap?” Alain smiled, his hand hovering over the deck.</p><p>“I know another game.” Ayrton shrugged. “Highest card wins. Lowest does a shot.”</p><p>“That’s a shit game.”  Alain said. He took a card anyway. “Eight of clubs.”</p><p>Ayrton took one himself. “Ten of clubs.”</p><p>“I don’t think we should let you shuffle again.” Alain said wryly.</p><p>“You next, Mansell.” Ayrton held the cards to the Englishman.</p><p>Nigel made his pick, and sighed. “Three of hearts.”</p><p>“Bad luck.” Alain laughed, as Ayrton began to look around for a shot glass.</p><p>Nigel, however, quite abruptly got up from the bed, and went back into the main room. Nelson’s snoring could still be clearly heard through the open door. </p><p>Before Alain could do anything other than look at Ayrton in mild confusion, Nigel reappeared, carrying three glasses.</p><p>He sat back down, and handed them out.</p><p>“I was thinking, I just remembered it...” He said. “Do you know what someone gave me to drink the other night? A Nelson Piquet.”</p><p>“A what?” Said Ayrton, shot glass forgotten.</p><p>“Oh yeah. He’s got his own bloody cocktail named after him.”</p><p>“What’s in it?” Alain grinned.</p><p>“Can’t remember. Something pink.” Nigel rolled his eyes. “So you know what? Forget shots. We should have our own drinks.”</p><p>“I think you’ve had enough drinks already, Nigel.” Alain laughed.</p><p>“No! I’m serious. If he gets to have one...” He turned to Ayrton. “Come on, what’s in a Prost? I’ll say vodka.”</p><p>Ayrton laughed softly, his eyes cast down. “Champagne.”</p><p>Alain felt his face grow very warm.</p><p>“And orange juice to mix.” Nigel searched through the impressive array of bottles on the bed, and poured the drink into Alain’s glass.</p><p>“So really all I get is Buck’s Fizz and vodka.” Alain said, holding his glass up to the light.</p><p>“Senna next.” Said Nigel, ignoring him. </p><p>“Rum, definitely.” Said Alain promptly. “And coke.” He hoped he wasn’t blushing too obviously.</p><p>“And... tequila.” Said Nigel, spotting a bottle of it in front of him, and pouring it into Ayrton’s glass.</p><p>The Brazilian laughed. “What about Mansell?” He looked at Alain expectantly.</p><p>“Something British. Gin.”</p><p>“Yeah. And... what is it called? Ginger beer.”</p><p>“Very appropriate.” Said Alain, as Ayrton poured Nigel’s drink. He held his own glass up. “Here’s to being relics.”</p><p>“To being relics.” Nigel echoed.</p><p>“Speak for yourselves.” Ayrton clipped his glass against the other two, and drank. He coughed, laughing. “That’s strong!”</p><p>Alain held his glass out towards the Brazilian. “Swap?”</p><p>“Sure.” Ayrton gave him a familiar look, that one from under his eyelashes. For a moment Alain could have been back in 1988, at a boring sponsor party in Imola. His head was buzzing.</p><p>Nigel grinned. “There’s an obvious joke to make here, but I’ll restrain myself.”</p><p>Ayrton ignored him, and switched glasses. Alain took a drink from the McLaren driver’s glass, and coughed too. “That’s unforgiving!”</p><p> “What did you expect?” Ayrton half-smiled. He drank from Alain’s glass, slowly. “Sharp.”</p><p>Alain didn’t say anything.</p><p>Ayrton turned to Nigel. “Let’s try him next.”</p><p>Alain noticed the ‘let’s’. Ayrton snatched the third and final glass away from the Englishman. He drank, then handed it to Alain. “What do you think?”</p><p>Alain took a sip. “Fiery.”</p><p>“Well, we’ve all sampled each other.” Said Nigel. “Anybody fancy a Piquet?”</p><p>They laughed.</p><p>“Not my favourite flavour.” Smiled Alain.</p><p>“What, Brazilian? You could have fooled me.” Nigel said, resting his chin in his hand.</p><p>Alain was too drunk to protest this.</p><p>“Tastes change.” Ayrton said, lightly.</p><p>“It’s still his favourite flavour, mate.” Nigel said, his voice flat. “Whether it does him any good, is another matter...”</p><p>Ayrton raised an eyebrow. “He can like whatever he wants, I think. If what you say is true.”</p><p>“Let’s leave this?” Alain said, quickly. “I preferred when we were relics, to be honest.”</p><p>The other two continued to stare each other down for a moment, before Nigel looked away. “I preferred it when we weren’t, while we’re being honest!” He said. “Can we just start again, d’you think?”</p><p>“Go back to when we were four young innocent racing drivers on a pitwall, smiling for the cameras?” Alain said.</p><p>“Yeah. Dunno about the innocent, though.” Said Nigel. Alain offered him a small smile.</p><p>“You can start again, always. The future is an open road.” Ayrton said idly. </p><p>His fingers found and loosely encircled Alain’s ankle, just next to him, as he talked. Ayrton didn’t seem to realise what he was doing.</p><p>Alain tensed, for a long moment. The same words that were in his mind four years ago were there again; this won’t end well. But he did not move away. </p><p>By then, of course, that familiar joy was coursing through him, repressed but never forgotten, just of Ayrton touching him, of where it would lead. </p><p>Ayrton turned to look at him, gorgeously, from under long eyelashes, and oh, there they were again. </p><p>Alain half smiled, his mind racing off ahead. They were both a bit too drunk to restrain themselves, just as they used to be. The last few bitter years were just a mistake, just silliness, and now they’d be fine again; friends again, lovers again, Jesus, they might even become teammates again, he was looking for a drive after all, and anyway how right was it that their reconciliation would be here, in Japan, in Suzuka of all places.</p><p>Ayrton leaned towards him and Alain leaned towards him... and then they remembered Nigel.</p><p>The Englishman was watching them with a resigned air. </p><p>“Don’t mind me.” Nigel held up his hands. “I’ll leave you to it.” He made to get up from the bed. Alain thought he could detect something else in Nigel’s voice. Longing, maybe. Not for either of them particularly, but just for inclusion. Or was that just the booze talking?</p><p>“Wait.” Said Alain, surprising himself. He sensed Ayrton staring, but studiously did not look back. “Why don’t you... stay?”</p><p>The words seemed to hang in the air for a long moment, just hovering above their heads.</p><p>Alain didn’t dare look at Ayrton. He focused on Nigel instead. Eventually, the Williams driver shook his head.</p><p>“I don’t think I’m that far gone.” He said. “But, you know, enjoy yourselves.” He was beginning to blush.</p><p>Ayrton spoke. “If you go...” He paused. “You’ll wake Nelson.”</p><p>Alain’s stomach did something like a somersault. Ayrton agreed, then.</p><p>Nigel laughed. “I think that’s more likely if, you know, I stay.”</p><p>“There’s a lock.” Ayrton shrugged, chewing a thumbnail. Alain was only slightly jealous to notice that the under-the-eyelashes look was not reserved solely for him. Mainly, he was turned on.</p><p>“It wouldn’t be anything new. For any of us. You said it yourself, in the corridor.” Ayrton continued.</p><p>Alain considered this. Certainly, there had been enough between Ayrton and himself to fill a book, and then a few more. There had even been a couple of fumbled encounters when he and Nigel both wore Ferrari overalls. But he didn’t know anything of what had happened between Ayrton and Nigel. He wasn’t sure how he would feel about that on a normal day. Jealous, probably. But tonight, again, he was only turned on. He found himself imagining them kissing.</p><p>“Well, I think this particular arrangement would be new for all of us!” Nigel was blushing furiously now. “You two are as bad as each other. Goodnight.” He started to get up once again. </p><p>Alain stood up first. He’d decided, with the clarity of thought that only comes from heavy drinking, that Nigel should stay. </p><p>“If you really wanted to go, you would have gone by now.” He held his hands up as Nigel approached. Ayrton knelt upright on the bed behind them, watching with intent.</p><p>Alain continued. “You had a shit day, I had a shit day. He,” he nodded to Ayrton, “had a fairly nice one, I guess. So yes, go if you want; sneak past Nelson, get back to your room, jerk off, whatever.” Alain shrugged. Nigel looked away. “Or stay. Like I said. See if your day becomes better.”</p><p>Nigel sighed. He looked at the ceiling, hands on his hips, before looking back at Alain. He hesitated.</p><p>“God, you’re staying either way.” Ayrton interjected, impatiently. “I said already; you can’t go, you’ll wake Nelson.” He got up off the bed too, and grabbed Alain’s wrist, tugging him forwards. “So you can stay and watch, or stay and join in.” He kissed Alain.</p><p>In his efforts to convince Nigel to stay, Alain had almost forgotten this part. Almost. Ayrton still kissed the same way; soft and deliberate. That had always taken Alain by surprise, when they were... before. It still did. </p><p>He moaned into it, and felt Ayrton’s lips curl into a smile. Alain pushed him down, backwards onto the bed, deepening the kiss.</p><p>It was not until he felt the mattress shift behind him, and a tentative hand rest against his waist did Alain remember Nigel.</p><p>*</p><p>The next day Alain wished he hadn’t drunk so much. He wished his head had been clear, so he could have a true, full memory of the night. Instead he had just images, coming in flashes and blurs.</p><p>Ayrton, kissing Nigel, not softly (kissing softly was reserved solely for him, apparently). Ayrton helping him to pin Nigel down, helping to undress... and after that, Alain wasn’t exactly clear on who he’d kissed, who he’d fucked, who made him come the first time. He thought that was Ayrton, but he couldn’t be sure.</p><p>He wished he could have had the perfect memory of it, untainted by alcohol. But if they hadn’t been drunk, he guessed it wouldn’t have happened.</p><p>Still, he wished he could have kept the memory. </p><p>*</p><p>Nigel had already left by the time Alain woke up. He felt a twinge of disappointment at this, but nothing more. It was to be expected really.</p><p>Alain curled himself around Ayrton instead, who faced away from him. He slipped a hand around the Brazilian’s waist, pulling him close, relishing the familiar body heat. Alain began kissing the line of Ayrton’s neck, and wondering what the best way of waking him would be, when he stirred.</p><p>“Alain?”</p><p>“Mmm?” He breathed, against Ayrton’s neck.</p><p>“Don’t.”</p><p>Alain sighed, bitterly, and didn’t move for a moment. He rested his forehead on the back of Ayrton’s neck. “Sorry. My mistake.”</p><p> Ayrton did not reply. He only moved away.<br/>
 <br/>
*</p><p>Nelson was tidying up when Alain emerged into the main room again, fully dressed. The Benetton driver grinned at him, knowingly.</p><p>“Good night?”</p><p>“Yes. Bad morning.” Alain said. “Senna’s still in there, by the way.” They were back on last name terms now. Some things didn’t have to be spelled out.</p><p>“I figured.” Nelson said. “Never mind.” He was no longer grinning. Something clicked for Alain.</p><p>“This was all part of the plan, wasn’t it?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“You know what – what happened last night.”</p><p>“What happened last night? I was asleep.” The grin was beginning to reappear.</p><p>Alain shook his head. “Goodbye, Nelson. Have a good race in Adelaide.”</p><p>“Thanks.” Nelson stepped towards him, and shook his hand. He hesitated. “I just thought it would be good for you three, you know. Sort out the issues.” He shrugged.</p><p>“It was a nice try.” Alain smiled, relenting. “You could have joined in, you know.”</p><p>“Alain,” The grin was back now, fully, “My only issues are with Benetton.”</p><p>“Well, just promise you won’t try to sort them out this way, ok?” Alain grinned back at him. Nelson put his head on one side, mock-considering it. “Goodbye, Nelson. All the best.”</p><p>“See you.” He leaned forwards, murmuring against Alain’s ear. “And, you know, just be patient.” He nodded in the direction of the bedroom.</p><p>Alain didn’t reply.</p><p>He only moved away.</p>
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